


above us, stars

by arochill



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Wing Grooming, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arochill/pseuds/arochill
Summary: “Above us, stars.Beneath us, constellations.”They weren’t related, at least not by blood. But the wings on their backs were a sign of kinship, and they weren’t going to let each other be alone.It was difficult to trust. They knew the world wasn’t kind. And yet, they held each other close and hoped to never be separated.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 63
Kudos: 825





	1. technoblade

When Techno’s wings grew in, it had been far too premature. His family was too big and too poor, and the cost of having a five year old with wings growing from his back wasn’t cheap. Even as young as he was, Techno had known that the bags under his parents eyes were due to him. He has always done his best to keep out of his parents hair after that. As his wings grew out, he learnt to take care of them on his own – even though it got more difficult to reach the older he got. By the time he was ten, wings too big for his tiny body, the bags under his parents' eyes had faded and so had their thoughts of Techno. He knew they loved him, but it was easier for them to ignore him than waste unnecessary time on a kid that could look after himself.

Techno didn’t think much of it anymore. It was all too normal, and his parents seemed to appreciate having a kid who didn’t need them to take care of him. Sure, he was never able to properly groom his wings. And sure, it hurt to see his siblings, with their bare backs that had yet to grow feathers, be held by his parents in a way he couldn’t remember.

But he was okay.

He was independent, and he was stronger than most other kids his age, and that meant he was fine.

(If he told himself that enough, maybe it would become true.)

Techno left his home when he was thirteen and the first feathers of his younger siblings began to grow out. His parents were more prepared than they were with him, and of that he was glad. He left behind all the coins he had gathered while working odd jobs to keep himself full and alive, and set off on a journey he didn’t know the end to.

Techno wasn’t a stranger to the outside world. He knew, to some, those with wings were seen as lesser, as if they were nothing more than the dirt on their shoes. But he also understood that those with wings, at least those that were younger in age, were protected by groups of those that were older. They called them flocks, he heard. He never left home enough to know if this was true or not.

Aside from Techno’s parents, who kept their wings hidden so often that he sometimes forgot they even had them, and his siblings who had only begun growing theirs when he left, Techno hadn’t seen many others with feathers on their back. Sometimes he wondered if they even existed. And then he saw them curled up on town streets, wings dirty and matted, and knew the answer.

Sometimes he wondered if that was how he was going to end up, especially now that he had left home.

Then he remembered that he had been taking care of himself on his own for a long time now, and this wasn’t much different.

The problem, Techno found, with leaving his home behind wasn’t missing the place. After all, it hadn’t felt like home in a long time. He didn’t remember when it last had. The problem came with lugging around his too big wings through forests where the branches and leaves got caught in his feathers and he didn’t have the maneuverability to reach. It was tiring. It left his back aching and the fact he wasn’t able to go into towns without getting looked at with suspicion left him unable to get any medical supplies to possibly fix it.

Despite it all, Techno didn’t return to his family.

Despite it all, Techno felt freer than he had in so many years, and letting his wings brush through the leaves of the trees and bushes felt _right._

His wings were still growing. They hadn’t stopped growing in years, and Techno didn’t know when they would stop. The growing pains, the strain in his back when he woke up every morning, was something he had long since gotten used to. It was still difficult to fly, and so he kept himself beneath the canopies of the trees and made the forest floor his home.

Techno, in the end, spent just less than six months in that forest.

Techno, in the end, was no less lonely than he had been back with his family. But at least now it was of his own choice.

The day he met Phil and Wilbur was one of the strangest days of his life – but more so than that, it was one of the best, even if he hadn’t known it at the time. Despite the panic he felt that day, he would never be able to regret it.

Techno had originally expected a normal day of foraging and hunting. He had gotten used to the repetitiveness of his daily life and there had been no reason for him to believe it would change anytime soon. So, upon the sound of wing flaps that were too loud to be from just the usual birds in the forest, he knew something was wrong.

His wings pinned up against his back as much as he could make them, and he pulled himself into the heavy layers of bush around him.

And what he saw was a teenage boy and an older man, both with strong looking wings and cautious looking expressions. Techno was used to seeing worn out wings, damaged by the trials of time, so seeing wings that looked so taken care of left him with a dry mouth and a feeling of inadequacy.

They didn’t see him. But the way they looked at each other, terrified but comforted by one another’s presence, was something Techno hadn’t seen in a long time.

His wings flitted without his say so, and the leaves he had hidden himself in moved. And the eyes of the winged folk hanging around his forest immediately shot towards him.

Techno’s breath stopped. His wings strained against his back, shuddering in preparation to move, when the older winged man called out.

“Please don’t go!”

Techno flinched backwards, stumbled out of the leaves and slammed into the wood of a tree trunk behind him. His wings automatically spread out, and immediately got caught in the branches of the tree above him.

And in front of him stood a man with a green bucket hat and clean, powerful black wings. The smile on the man’s face only increased the panic Techno felt upon the man being so close. That same smile disappeared the second he caught sight of Techno’s wings.

“Oh, that’s gotta hurt.” The man said softly, his own wings twitching as Techno narrowed his eyes at him and began yanking his wings out of the branches. The man immediately started forwards, reaching to help, but Techno just pulled harder – faster.

Feathers were pulled from his wings but he ignored it in order to move away from the tree trunk and away from the man in front of him.

Techno watched colour drain from the man’s face.

Techno didn’t have time to understand why, however, because as he moved backwards he found himself slamming wing first into the teen he had seen with the man.

He didn’t think twice before reaching towards his belt and pulling out his hunting knife, swinging around to face the teen with it in hand.

He missed by barely a centimetre, and he looked up into the wide eyes of the older teen.

And, flexing his wings and glancing over at the man still standing by the tree, Techno took off as far as he could into the depths of the forest.

They didn’t follow him, and the relief he felt in that fact was immense.

(This was not the last Techno saw of them.)

Techno knew that he was more paranoid than the usual person. He knew that he lashed out when he was cornered, even if they weren’t attacking. And he knew that the more time he spent in the forest where his wings were always brushing against branches and ripping out feathers, the worse he was making it for himself.

He knew that he couldn’t remain in the forest if he wanted his wings to still work by the time he reached adulthood.

Sometimes he wondered if that would be a good thing. If without his too large and too annoying wings, his parents would finally accept him. He didn’t like thinking about that.

They didn’t leave the forest. Instead, they carefully picked up broken branches and thick leaves and created a makeshift little hut that Techno knew their wings barely fit inside. They didn’t know the area that well, that much was obvious, and it was the main reason they had yet to spot him as he watched them.

They didn’t seem like they were running from anything. Despite the caution on their faces that he had seen when they arrived, they looked to be growing comfortable with their surroundings.

Techno didn’t understand it.

There were only two of them – they weren’t a flock, and they didn’t look to be leaving anytime soon. The way their wings were so clean and groomed made Techno think that they obviously came from a good family. Their wings did not look easy to clean, and Techno knew how parents could get in regards to doing it for them.

(Techno remembered the first time and only time had asked for help with his. It hadn’t gone well.)

Techno didn’t understand why they would stay in an area that was so obviously not built for either wing folk _or_ humans. It was too full of too many trees for humans to bother with cutting it down to build housing, and the low hanging branches of the trees were terrible for wings. He didn’t understand them. And so, he kept watching.

They didn’t leave, even as the night began to fall and the cold began to set in. Techno watched them curl up in one another’s arms, the older man’s black wings wrapped around the teen and his rainbow feathers.

Techno’s wings shook against the cold of the wind.

(He wasn’t sure if that was the only reason.)

Techno left for his shelter.

It was exhausting, having to share the forest with people that didn’t understand the wildlife and didn’t hesitate in trying to talk to him every time they spotted him. He didn’t understand why they were still there.

But if there was one thing Techno was used to, it was waiting. If there was one thing Techno was, it was patient.

He could defend himself as long as he was able to seperate them from one another.

(The teenager, with his fragile looking, rainbow wings, would be easy to take down if Techno got him alone.)

“I’m Wilbur!” The teen greeted, a bright smile on his face. He held out a hand to Techno. Techno stared down at it, and didn’t move. Wilbur pulled his hand back with an embarrassed laugh.

Techno put his hand on top of his knife.

Behind him, Techno’s wing twitched. He needed to move – he needed to go, _now._ He needed to—

“Your wings are so cool!”

Techno froze. Stared at the older teen. Looked at Wilbur’s rainbow wings vibrating with excitement behind him.

His own wings strained to move. He shifted, pulling them closer to his body.

“What?”

The hunting knife attached to his belt went forgotten.

Techno didn’t trust anyone but himself, it was as simple as that. This had been the way it had always worked and he didn’t expect it to change anytime soon. He was fine on his own. He knew how to protect himself. He knew how to stay alive.

He had been fine on his own for this long. There was no reason for it to change.

Wilbur offered him the food that he and his guardian – _Phil,_ Wilbur said – had managed to scavenge in their time in the forest. It wasn’t much. It was far less than Techno would have been able to get himself in the same amount of time.

Techno took it anyway.

(There was no reason to say no to free food. He wasn’t stupid.)

Wilbur and Phil sat across from him. In between them all was a fire pit, and even when the toy in front of him began to eat, even when Techno joined in, he didn’t take his eyes off them for a moment. More importantly, he kept his eyes on the movements of their wings.

Neither of them were tense. Neither of them were worried about what he might do to them. They weren’t prepared to fly off at a moment's notice. In fact, Phil had his wings wrapped around Wilbur’s shoulder, keeping the teen warm and protected from the wind. The amount of time it would take him to remove it and take off into the air would be too long if Techno was to move to attack them.

Techno wings remained outstretched, ready to move.

He swallowed down the rest of his meal, and waited.

Phil gave the rest of his food to Wilbur, who looked at the man annoyed but accepted it, and looked up to meet Techno’s watchful gaze.

The man smiled.

“I know Wilbur already said, but I'm Phil. It is _very_ nice to meet you. Could I ask your name, little fledgling?”

Techno forced the scowl trying to appear on his face down. 

( _Fledgling._ He wasn’t that small anymore. He wasn’t that weak. He was full grown from the moment the first feather appeared – he had never been a fledgling.)

“Techno.” He stated. He didn’t blink. He watched Phil and Wilbur closely.

The way he watched their eyes meet upon his name said more than anything else could have.

Techno’s hand went towards the knife on his belt. Neither of the people in front of him missed the movement.

“Techno, huh? That’s a good name!” Phil said.

Techno couldn’t hold back his scowl this time.

“Why are you here? What do you want from me?” He demanded, extending his wings to try and appear bigger than he was.

The expression on Phil’s face became sad for a moment, but he quickly cleared it up with another smile.

“We’re here to take you home.” Phil told him, words careful, words soft. As if they were being told to a child who had been disobedient, or a wounded animal, and not _Techno_ , who heard those words and understood them and remembered the dismissive voices of his parents and —

“No.” Techno said.

“No?” Phil answered.

Techno wanted to say the man looked confused, but the understanding on his face was almost worse. Phil looked at Techno’s wings with sympathy that Techno had never seen directed his way.

Wilbur, next to Phil, finished his food. He looked over at Phil with a similar look of understanding and a question in his expression. Phil nodded. The older teen stood up and walked over to Techno without even a hint of hesitation in his movements.

Techno tensed. He flared his wings out. He knew that, in the fire light, the size of his wings made an imposing image.

Wilbur did not stop. He sat down at Techno’s side, smiled at him, and grabbed careful hold of Techno’s right wing before he had a chance at understanding what was happening. He reached for a leaf that was trapped in his wings.

Techno ripped himself away immediately. He stumbled backwards. He ignored the horrified look on Wilbur’s face when the sudden movement pulled out one of his feathers.

“Get out of my forest. Leave me alone. _Go away.”_

And, not for the first time, Techno went to leave. He took one step backwards, keeping his eyes on Phil and Wilbur, and took one more step. He went to spin around.

This time, he did not get far.

His parents never extended their wings. They never showed them much at all. Techno could barely remember what they even looked like in the first place. All he really remembered about them was that they had never been as big as his own. Sometimes Techno had wondered if they were jealous.

Phil, who was shorter than Wilbur, shorter than Techno, hadn’t been someone that Techno was scared of. The man was older than he was, but with his wings tucked behind him back, Techno hadn’t been afraid.

Phil’s wings were larger than Techno’s.

(Techno’s wings were still not fully grown. At this moment, that didn’t matter.)

Phil, with his wings, black as night, spread out, and the light of the fire behind him, Techno stopped in his tracks. He had never been so terrified to see wings before.

Techno lowered his head and tucked his wings.

“You could come with us.” Phil told him softly, a stark contrast to his figure, “You shouldn’t be alone out here. You— when was the last time someone helped you groom your wings, Techno?”

Techno swallowed. He didn’t answer.

Phil just looked sad.

“Where’s home for you, Techno?” Phil asked.

Techno took a step back. He still didn’t answer.

Phil took a step forward.

And another.

And another.

And Phil took hold of Techno’s hands.

The care in his eyes, the softness of his hands, had Techno’s throat closing up.

(He didn’t remember his parents ever looking at him like that.)

Phil wrapped his wings, big and protective and comforting, around Techno. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. Come with us. Please. You don’t have to go home – you can make a _new_ home, if that’s what you want. I know you don’t trust me – don’t trust _us,_ but… you deserve to be protected. You _should_ be protected. Let us help you. Let us try.”

Techno was thirteen, only a few months off fourteen, with wings too big for his body that wouldn’t grow in fully until he was older.

He knew how to protect himself.

(He had learnt how to take care of himself far too early.)

It had been a very, very long time since someone took care of him.

“Can we?”

Wilbur held a hand out, gesturing at Techno’s wings. There was a small, hesitant smile on his face. Phil sat on Techno’s other side, waiting for his answer.

Techno wanted to run. He wanted to get away.

They were _too close,_ they were looking at his wings _too much._ He hated it. Nothing good ever came of eyes on his wings.

He nodded.

With careful hands, Phil and Wilbur took hold of his wings. Techno forced back his flinch. And he felt his wings relax as they were brought into the laps of the two next to him and taken care of _for him_ for the first time in his life. As the two older winged folk began to carefully pull out sticks and leaves, as they combed gentle fingers through his feathers, as Wilbur hummed a quiet, whistling tune—

Techno wondered if this is what having a flock, a _family,_ to take care of him felt like.

His wings lowered, his body relaxed. He didn’t remember the last time the growing pains caused by his wings weren’t there. He didn’t remember the last time it didn’t feel like he had to tuck them away to avoid annoying anymore. He didn’t remember the last time he felt _safe._

“It’s okay, Techno. We’ve got you.”

Techno kept his head tipped down.

If a few tears hit his lap, if his feathers puffed up with emotion he couldn’t control, no one said anything.

It took time for him to grow used to having others around. He didn’t immediately trust them. When he left the forest to go to their little home – a place in an open area surrounded by trees high enough to fly under without trouble, a place made for people like them – he hadn’t trusted them even a small amount.

It took time.

Neither Phil or Wilbur minded waiting.

Techno was sixteen, only a few days off seventeen, with wings that fit his body and were far, far bigger than the wings of anyone else he had seen.

Phil told him that the reason they must have grown so early was so the size of his wings didn’t ruin his so much smaller body forever. They needed time, Phil had told him. Phil knew more than Techno thought he ever would about wings, about people _with_ wings.

(Techno had never asked how he knew so much. Phil would tell him one day, in the quiet of the night when Techno was older and more understanding, and it would be the first time Techno ever wrapped someone in his wings as they cried. It wouldn’t be the last time.)

Trust was difficult for Techno. It had been for a long time. He had to take care of himself for a long time, so having other people watching over him was strange.

It had taken him a while to trust Wilbur and Phil fully. It had taken many months for him to believe that they weren’t just going to throw him back to his parents and his life of 

Wilbur was too happy, too bright – just as his wings, rainbow and fast, were. There were moments when Techno wondered what it would take for that brightness to dim.

(He hoped it would never happen.)

Wilbur was an older brother and a younger brother all in one. Techno wanted to protect him. Wilbur wanted someone to take care of. Techno found he was okay with that.

Phil was calm. He was a father in a way that his biological one had never been. He was strong in a way that Techno was in awe of. He was protective in a way that Techno had never felt in his direction. He didn’t ask for Techno to explain why he didn’t want to go home, he just offered him a new one. It was more than Techno could have asked for.

Techno hadn’t realised this was what it felt like to have a family.

When Techno’s wings had first grown in, they had been far too premature. Now, as they shifted behind him, catching the wind with ease, he understood why they had needed so long to grow.

They were strong. _Powerful._

He wanted to go back to that house on the outskirts of that village, that house that had _never_ been home, and show to his parents that they had been wrong in forgetting him. That his wings were a part of him that would never leave, and he was _proud_ of them. He was proud of _himself._

Sure, there were days when he flew through the trees and got branches stuck in his wings again. Sure, there were days when he forgot that he wasn’t alone in the world, fighting to survive in a world that didn’t care for him. He had been alone far longer than he had been alongside Phil and Wilbur. But, as he found, that was okay.

He hasn’t realised how freeing flying was. His wings had never been big enough to take off properly. Wilbur and Phil had been at his side when he took off into the air. He had laughed that day as the wind blew through his wings, a smile on his face he hadn’t realised was there until he saw the quiet, overjoyed relief on Wilbur and Phil’s faces.

He had cried that day as the wind held him tight and protected him, an invisible hug that left him short of breath and _happy._

Techno didn't fully understand how to let others in. It just wasn’t something he was able to do. He had grown up to be independent, and it had worked well enough for him for years. He protected himself, and that was all that mattered. He didn’t have time to care for anyone else.

Thinking otherwise was something he was learning to do.

It was still hard. It would always be hard.

But he was beginning to understand that was okay.

Techno was twenty, a few months away from twenty one. And he took home – back to his flock, to his family, to his home – a blonde boy with too big wings who watched him with defiant, scared eyes the entire time. The boy had been alone.

Techno knew what it felt like to be alone in the world.

(He would work his hardest to make sure no one had to feel the same.)


	2. tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wasn’t used to safety. It always came at a cost. His family was too big to sustain the amount of kids in the house, so he had no choice but to leave. The streets were no better than the place he had once called home — perhaps worse.
> 
> It took meeting a pink haired man with wings far bigger than his own for his perception of safety to chance completely.

In every way that mattered, Tommy was loud. He was loud in his presence, in his stature. In his personality. He was loud in everything he did, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was loud because if he wasn’t, then he wasn’t sure if people would even care that he was around. It worked as well as it could have. People paid attention to him — they saw him, whether they wanted to or not.

Tommy grew up in a big flock. His parents, although not blood related to any of them, took in as many kids as they could find – specifically those with wings. Tommy had been taken in when he was only 5, and he didn’t remember a time when he didn't need to be loud. Their family seemed to grow everyday. He wasn’t the oldest, and he most definitely wasn’t the youngest. In a family as big as his, you needed to be loud. If you weren’t, you were left behind. Tommy was too proud, even when he was younger, to let that happen to him.

Even then, having a flock as big as his own was good. It was _safe._ He always had comfort from at least one of his siblings, even if they fought often.

Tommy knew he was a handful, even with how many of them there were.

(He was forgettable, even with how loud he could be. Just another one of his parents nestlings that they didn't have the time to look after.)

There was a precedent in his family that once you turned sixteen, you were to leave the flock and learnt to survive on your own. It didn’t matter that only a small number of them were taught to cook, to survive.

Tommy had just turned 16.

It turns out that people like wing folk even less when they were loud mouthed kids. Especially when it was a person like Tommy whose wings reacted with his emotions, knocking things over without him even realising it. Within a week of leaving home, of living off the few coins he had been given before he had been kicked out, he was banned from all the shops that were even _remotely_ accepting of wing folk.

Tommy told himself he didn’t care.

He was a big man. He was better than they would ever be – he was so much _cooler_ than they were with their lack of wings and lack of freedom.

Tommy told himself that it was better that way, anyway. He didn’t need their stupid stores. He could get his own. He was _Tommy,_ he didn’t need anyone other than himself.

(Tommy had always been a good liar.)

Tommy was a wanderer at heart. Even when he was younger, going out and exploring the world was something he had always wanted to do. Sure, it was always more of a dream than anything else, but he didn't let that stop him. He didn’t let _anything_ stop him.

Not his family, not the world. Not the people who saw him as nothing less than the scum of the earth.

Tommy knew he was one of the best at flying within his household. It wasn’t as much of a brag as it was just a fact. He was fast, too. His wings were light enough to give him the speed and the power he needed to get to places faster than most others would be able to.

His home, even back when he lived with his family, had never truly felt like home.

If there was one thing Tommy understood, it was freedom.

He didn’t care for the opinions of others. They didn’t like him, they thought he was too loud, too chaotic, and they didn’t hesitate in letting him know that. He didn’t care. He was better than they were. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him otherwise. They were _wrong_ about him, and he would continue to prove them wrong even if they didn’t care to listen to what he was saying in the first place.

Flying equated to freedom.

Tommy knew that some people didn’t like those with wings. He had never been entirely sure as to why. Their reasoning was _stupid._ Wings were wrong, they said, wingfolk were mutants and shouldn’t exist. _Whatever._ In Tommy’s opinion – which _everyone_ should listen to – they were just jealous that they were unable to feel wind against their wings and the freedom of the skies that they would never be able to reach, no matter how many machines they invented.

There was nothing like being able to push himself into the air and hover in place as high as he could get himself and let the wind brush against his feathers.

He didn’t need anyone else when he had himself and his wings and the wind.

They threw junk at him. They tossed rotten food and broken metal and whatever they could get their hands on in order to get him to the ground. In the air, with wings beating furiously behind him and a whole roast chicken in his hands, Tommy cackled loudly.

Just as what looked like a handbag was thrown towards him, Tommy ducked out of the way and took off faster than any of those below would be able to hit.

They didn’t stand a chance against his speed.

He laughed the whole way back to his makeshift hideout, clutching his prize.

(When he landed, he hissed at the blood that dripped down from his wings and onto the ground. Not all of them had bad aim, it seemed.)

Tommy was a people person, even if the fact he was usually on his own said the contrary. He liked making people laugh. He liked being the cause of smiles on others faces. Tommy’s siblings were the main targets of this. They ruffled his hair and grinned at him and gave him hugs even when they claimed they were sick of him.

He didn’t really have anyone to make laugh anymore. He was okay with that, _really._ He didn’t mind. He was fine on his own.

Tommy enjoyed flying. He enjoyed exploring the towns he never had a chance to in the past. He enjoyed the freedom that came with no one being around to tell him what to do.

He wasn’t able to stay in any town for long. Eventually, they learnt how much trouble he was. He moved from town to town through the air only days past first arriving. Sure, it left him lacking in places to go, but even if there were no towns left to go into and get food from, there were still the forests. He was smart, he could figure out how to hunt.

Right?

Tommy was trouble. Even he knew this.

He met Techno only a week after he was kicked out of yet another town.

The man was intimidating. He was tall, and his wings were bigger than anything Tommy had ever seen, and his red eyes were all too knowing when they caught sight of him. Tommy had flared out his wings, steeled his face, and stood his ground.

Techno looked at him – a dirt covered boy shaking with aggression with his fists clenched at his sides.

And Techno crouched down in front of him and held out a hand.

“I’m Techno. What’s your name, kid?”

Tommy was wild, unrestrained energy that came out in bursts of anger and impatience. He couldn’t control it, even when he knew that he should stop. It made getting to know people other than his family more or less impossible.

Techno took one look at him and didn’t hesitate in opening his family to him.

Tommy couldn’t understand it.

From the hour he had known the older man, he didn’t seem like the kind of person to do that – _especially_ to someone he had never met like Tommy. _Especially_ to someone like Tommy who fought him the entire time they walked, Techno hands tight but not uncomfortable around his wrist.

The entire time, Techno spoke quiet, careful words. About his family. About the forest. About freedom. He spoke about everything and nothing, even as Tommy continued to halfheartedly yell at the older man to leave him alone. In fact, Techno just answered his yells with laughs that didn’t seem condescending and smiles that Tommy hadn’t seen in response to his actions in what felt like years.

Tommy was a runner. He didn’t stay in one place long, and he didn’t expect for that to change. No one wanted him, and he was absolutely fine with that.

He was _independent._

(His parents and siblings always told him that was what he needed to learn how to be. They couldn’t coddle him forever.)

“They won’t kick you out, kid.”

Tommy faced Techno and narrowed his eyes, a scowl on his face. The man was looking at him with an almost _sad_ smile. Tommy hated it.

 _“What?”_ Tommy snapped. “I don’t care about your stupid family kicking me out or not. I’m not _staying.”_

Techno’s face dropped for a second before becoming blank again, but Tommy caught it.

(He didn’t understand it.)

Techno then sighed and used the hand not around Tommy’s wrist to pat the younger boy's head.

Tommy immediately pulled away, snarling. Techno laughed. And then, before Tommy realised what was happening, they stopped moving and Tommy’s wrist was released from Techno’s hold.

Tommy immediately beat his wings and shot up into the air without hesitation. Techno just stared up at him, smiling. Unmoving.

Tommy was immediately suspicious.

“Those are some fast wings you’ve got there.”

Tommy’s eyes widened and he spun around quickly, almost slamming his wings right into the man behind him with the movement. As fast as he could – which, of course, was incredibly fast – he pushed himself even higher into the air. The man, with his large, black feathered wings, and bright blonde hair only followed him up. Tommy’s wings shuddered and he glared. He extended his wings, preparing to shoot past the man in front of him.

“Leave me alone! I don’t _want_ to be here!” He snarled.

The man only smiled at him, a nostalgic look on his face that didn’t make any sense to Tommy.

“Would you like something to eat before you leave then, mate? We have more than enough to share.”

Tommy opened his mouth to shout, anger thrumming through his veins, and his stomach growled.

“So, I’m Phil. This is Wilbur.” The blonde, black feathered man introduced, a smile on his face. He pointed to a younger man next to him with fluffy brown hair and rainbow wings, who grinned sharply and brightly. “And you’ve already met Techno.”

Techno looked up from his plate and the food he was scarfing down, and smirked at Tommy.

Tommy glared, picked up a fork, and stuffed a slice of bacon into his mouth before they had a chance of asking for his own name.

Phil laughed.

Wilbur looked contemplative.

(Tommy didn’t understand why.)

He planned to leave as soon as he was done with the food. He didn’t know these people, he didn’t _want_ to know these people, and he knew how to take care of himself so he didn’t need three stupid, overbearing adults to pretend like they cared.

He planned to run as soon as they looked away for a moment. He planned to take off into the sky and get away from these too-kind, too-happy people.

Phil, with a smile that was friendlier than any expression that had been directed at Tommy in a _long_ time, offered their spare bedroom to him for the night.

Of course Tommy agreed.

(It had been a while since Tommy last slept on a bed and not on the hard ground of the sides of streets or woodland floors.)

Only for the night, he said.

Wilbur chuckled and wrapped his wings around Tommy who immediately shoved himself away. There was a smirk on his face – somehow, it was soft. It wasn’t mocking. Tommy hated it immensely.

Techno looked at them knowingly.

Phil guided him to the guest room.

Tommy had forgotten how to sleep on beds without making his wings uncomfortable. It had been a long time, and his wings had grown since he last had a proper place to stay.

He knew that he could ask – there were three men nearby, all with fully grown wings – but he didn’t know them. He pulled the mattress of the bed from its frame, and dragged it over the corner of the room. He brought the sheets and pillows with him and shoved them in a pile, and he curled himself up on top of it in the same way he would when all he had were leaves or street corners to curl into.

It was a nest made of materials he did not care about – they were not his – but it was the first nest he had been able to make since before he was forced to leave home.

Despite how uncomfortable he felt, something that wasn’t helped by the men only a room away, it was the best sleep he had in months.

When Techno knocked on the door of the bedroom in order to wake him up in the morning, he said nothing about the nest in the corner of the room. There was a slight twitch of his lips, halfway between a smile and a smirk, but he did not say a word about it. It meant more than Tommy could express, and so he just snapped at Techno that he would be out soon and closed the door on the man.

Tommy was going to leave in the morning. He had told himself that, over and over, and no matter the kind expressions and the smiles on the faces of these people, he wasn’t going to change his mind.

He somehow found himself sitting at the family’s table for breakfast.

Phil made pancakes.

(In his old house, it was difficult to get pancakes. There were too many of the kids, and they were always faster to the food than he was. By the time he got around to it, the food was either cold or not there at all.)

They were warm, and it was a _pile,_ and he knew everyone at the table heard it as his stomach growled.

Phil just grinned at him, and slid over a bottle of maple syrup.

It was as Tommy was halfway through scarfing down his pancakes that Wilbur spoke up, his own pancakes already eaten.

“Could I preen your wings?” Wilbur asked.

And Tommy flinched so wildly, his wings flaring out, that he toppled his chair and came crashing to the ground.

He scowled through the pain of the crash.

“Fuck off.”

He watched all three of the men move to get out of their chairs to help him, and his scowl worsened.

“You aren’t my family. I don’t _need_ your help. I should have left earlier. Are you guys fucking _stupid?_ Why the hell would I let you touch my wings?” Tommy snapped, and pushed himself up. He winced at the movement, and knew there was going to end up being a bruise on his back.

Wilbur frowned. Tommy could see him fighting himself on whether he should get up or not.

“I’m sorry–” Wilbur began.

Tommy shook his head.

“Shut up. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

Tommy moved for the door, steps purposeful.

None of the three sitting at the table tried to stop him, but he could feel their eyes on him the entire time.

And then, beating his wings wildly into the air as soon as he was outside, Tommy was gone.

He never gave them his name.

He honestly didn’t go far, is the thing.

He perched on a tree near the clearing the house was in, and waited there. He sat there, and he watched, and he knew he should leave but—

He couldn’t stop himself.

Tommy watched as Phil wandered around the forest, hunting and gathering. Sometimes the man would go to the pond by their house and fish, and he would stay there until night fell. Sometimes the man would just fly up into the sky as far as he wanted, and Tommy would watch at the man rocketed back towards the ground onto to spread his wings and stop just above the ground, evidence of the many times he had done it in the past.

Tommy watched as Techno hunted, and he watched as the man came back covered in blood. He was always, _always_ sat on the ground by Phil and Wilbur as the cleaned said blood from his face and his feathers. He watched as Phil and Wilbur preened Techno’s wings and the man, as dangerous and harsh as he looked, fell apart at their hands. It felt like Tommy was watching something forbidden – he didn’t stop watching.

He watched as Wilbur sat on the grass with a guitar in hands, his wings gently flapping against the wind. The music travelled all the way to the tree Tommy found himself hidden in, and he couldn’t stop himself from relaxing. He watched as Wilbur laid against the grass, eyes closed, and just breathed. He watched as Wilbur stayed behind at the house as Techno and Phil went hunting. He listened as the man whistled quietly to himself, a quiet birdsong, when he thought no one was watching him.

Tommy didn’t know how long he had been hanging around the area, just watching the family… _live._ It was different. There was a comfortable quiet to everything they did, even at their loudest moments. It was nothing like when he still had a home, and Tommy couldn’t stop the envy from rising within him.

He found himself living vicariously through their actions, even though he _knew_ he should have left long ago.

He didn’t want to stay around them – heaven forbid he even _thought_ of trusting these strange, friendly men – but he couldn’t help himself.

After all, there wasn’t anywhere else he could really go.

“How old are you, kid?”

Tommy screeched and flailed and only barely caught himself on a close branch as a face appeared in front of him.

“What the fuck?!”

“Didn't know fuck was an age.” Wilbur said, a grin on his face. His wings flapped behind him as he sat down on the tree branch Tommy had pulled himself up onto.

Tommy opened his mouth to begin swearing, but paused as a hand brushed through his hair with what could only be described as fondness. The expression on Wilbur’s face was nothing less than soft – if Tommy trusted the man enough, he might have even called it brotherly. But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

He stared wide eyed at Wilbur instead.

Wilbur chuckled.

“What, surprised?” Wilbur asked, moving his hand back, “You know that you haven’t really been hidden right? We’ve all been able to see you from the house.”

Tommy felt his both grow dry, and his wings tensed up.

He didn’t speak.

Wilbur combed a hand through his own hair in what Tommy thought might be stress.

“It’s okay, kid. I promise none of us mind. I just… thought you might be hungry? No one’s seen you leave the tree for a bit, and I was worried… we have more food in the house if you want–”

Tommy scoffed and shuffled back as far as he could get on such a small branch.

“I don’t want your help.” Tommy snapped.

Wilbur sighed. Tommy could see his wings droop behind him.

“I know. Believe me, I know. But I still wanted to offer, even if you don’t want it. I promise, it’ll just be the food. Then you can come straight back to the tree, and we’ll continue pretending you aren’t there. I just… you might not want it, kid, but you do _deserve_ to be cared for. Even if giving you a bit of leftover food is all I can do for you.”

Tommy searched Wilbur’s face, his _wings,_ for any hint of a lie. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find one, especially considering the people he had met in villages in the past who promised safety and food and only gave him a kick to his stomach or a knife to his wings.

He found nothing. Nothing but an expression of genuine, heartfelt truth.

Tommy followed Wilbur into their house.

He was given food, and Wilbur quietly offered the guest room to him again – he looked prepared for rejection. Tommy spotted the room, it’s door still open, and saw his nest – still there, untouched. He didn’t understand it. 

He accepted the offer.

(He was gone again in the morning before Phil or Techno came back from hunting.)

It continued like that for a week. Wilbur continued to come to the tree he settled in whenever Techno and Phil were gone, offering food and the guest room.

And for some reason, as Wilbur continued to smile at him, as Wilbur continued to act like he wasn’t a bother, Tommy continued accepting.

“Tommy.”

Wilbur turned around to look at him, pausing in the doorway to his bedroom. Tommy held the man’s leftovers in his hands, the plate still warm to the touch, and he didn’t look away from Wilbur for a second.

“Sorry?” Wilbur asked.

“My name is Tommy.” Tommy said. And then, plate still in hand, he headed into the guest bedroom without waiting for a response.

The first time Wilbur offered for him to come into the house while Techno and Phil were there, Tommy hadn’t been sure about accepting.

There had been a lot of protesting. There had been a lot of swearing, and anger. His wings had been tense, and wild, and flapping all over the place.

But then Wilbur had reached over to him and gently ran a hand through his feathers. And Tommy had fallen against the man without any real conscious thought.

“Please, Tommy? They won’t ask anything of you if you don’t want them to. You don’t even have to tell them your name. They just want to make sure you’re still alive.”

He couldn’t stop himself from agreeing.

(He wasn’t sure if he even _wanted_ to say no.)

Wilbur was right about them not asking him anything. There was a surprise on Phil and Techno’s expressions when he walked through that door, but they had been patient. They just smiled at him – well, Techno’s was more a smirk than anything – and put a plate in front of the only empty chair at their table.

No one started eating until he sat at the chair and picked up a fork.

He kept coming back.

One night, his nest just felt… wrong. It had since he made it, especially considering none of the materials were truly his _own,_ but he knew it was something else this time. Techno and Phil had taken Wilbur out hunting with them for once, and for some reason they trusted Tommy to be in their house while none of them were there.

Wilbur had left the door to his room open.

Even Tommy knew that was a stupid decision on Wilbur’s part, but one part of Tommy’s brain couldn’t help but be glad for it.

He went into Wilbur’s room, and took out with him one of the man’s many sheets and one of his pillows. It was added to Tommy’s nest before he even realised what he was doing. But the time Wilbur returned to the house later that day, Tommy had no time to return it.

(He found that he didn't really _want_ to return it anyway.)

Over the next few days, he ended up with sheets and pillows from both Phil and Techno’s rooms as well.

Even when he was a part of a big family, with lots of bedrooms to steal sheets from, his nest had never really expanded from the two sheets his parents had given to him. He didn’t know why this was different.

(He did. He did know. He just didn’t want to admit it.)

He told Phil and Techno his name only three days after they officially invited him to stay in the house if that was something he wanted to do.

Phil had brought him into a winged hug, and Techno had rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder softly. Wilbur had smiled at him in that same brotherly way he had seen when he first invited him back into the house.

He swore he didn’t understand it, but that was a lie.

He had been there for nearly a month.

He honestly thought they would have kicked him out by now. They _had_ to have noticed the missing sheets. They _had_ to realise he was wasting their food. They _had_ to realise that he was disturbing the quiet peace that he had seen around their home during all his time watching. They had to realise that, like his parents said, he was an adult that should learn to take care of himself and not bother other people.

They didn’t.

“I told you no one’s going to kick you out, Tommy.”

Tommy spun around. Techno leaned against the door to the guest bedroom – _his_ bedroom now.

Tommy’s wings extended to try and cover up the nest beneath him, but the damage had already been done.

Techno smiled at him.

“It’s okay, Tommy. I’m not going to touch your nest. Can I come in?”

Tommy stared at the man, and nodded jerkily.

Techno sat on the empty frame of Tommy’s bed, and he looked up at the roof above them.

“You’re a lot like me, you know?” Techno said.

Tommy couldn’t help the abrupt laugh that left his mouth. Techno glanced down at him and tilted his head, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. I know Tommy. We’re nothing alike, not in personality. But… we’re similar.” Techno breathed, and his wings wrapped around him. “You think you’re alone. I get that. You don’t understand how much I understand that. But… Tommy. You’re flock now. You’re _family._ Just like Wilbur and Phil became to me. No ones going to kick you out. You’re _home_ here. You’re not alone and I just… wanted you to know that. That’s all.”

Techno stood back up, and moved to leave.

Tommy was moving before he even realised.

His arms wrapped around Techno’s chest, and Techno’s wings wrapped around Tommy’s back.

“You’re a dickhead.” Tommy whispered.

If there were tears in his eyes, neither of them mentioned it.

Techno chuckled.

“Okay, kid.” Techno said, and ran a hand through Tommy’s hair, “okay.”

There was a big pile of blankets and pillows and soft items in the middle of the living room.

Phil was curled up in the middle of it, wings wrapped around the sleeping bodies of Wilbur and Techno, even though both men were so much taller than him.

Tommy stood at the edge of the room, hovering, wings frozen behind him.

Phil looked up, spotted Tommy, and slowly lifted a finger to his lips. Tommy nodded, and went to turn around to leave. Phil quickly shook his head, and gestured him over to the pile.

Tommy shook his own head, stepping back.

“Get in the nest, Tommy.” A tired voice called from under Phil’s wings. Drowsy as it was, it was distinctly Wilbur.

Tommy hesitated.

“Please, Tommy.” Phil pleaded, an inviting smile on his face. He lifted a wing up. There was a gap in between Techno and Wilbur, and it was exactly the size of Tommy.

Tommy’s wings burst to life, no longer frozen, and he ran for the gap. There was laughter from three different men as he did so, two of them sounding incredibly sleepy, but none of them said a word as he slipped in between Techno and Wilbur. Phil wrapped his wings back around them.

Tommy was used to loud. But there was a silence to this moment that he held close to his heart and didn’t let go of.

For the first time in what felt like a very, _very_ long time, Tommy felt well and truly _safe._

He felt, undeniably, like he was finally, _finally_ home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been a while. hello. promise i haven’t forgotten about this fic :) honestly, this fic has just become a comfort thing for me to write when i’m not feeling the greatest, and I speed ran 3000 words of it in the span of a few hours. I really, really hope you enjoy it, even if it does seem a bit rushed.
> 
> Tell me what you think! I always love to hear from people who read it! :D Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to “above us, stars”! i’ve been working on this for quite a while and i’m very excited to finally begin posting it! i really hope you like it! :D
> 
> any comments and kudos are absolutely appreciated, i’m very excited to see what people think of this! next chapter hopefully won’t be too long :) thank you for reading!
> 
> (also! i’m @fitzmaplecourt on twitter! my pinned has all my works and under “above us, stars” it has the idea for the wings appearance, if you are curious :))


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